The Ghan
At 13, I genuinely believed the worst thing that could happen on a holiday was losing internet.
So when I found out The Ghan would have limited signal – and not many other kids my age – my excitement quickly turned into panic. A long train journey without Wi‑Fi sounded like a very slow way to be bored. But within hours of stepping onboard, I realised something: the disconnection I was worried about wasn’t a problem. It was the point.
From the start, everything felt a little unreal – in the best way. The staff made us feel welcome straight away, and even small touches like the complimentary bag of goodies made it feel special. I remember thinking this wasn’t going to be an ordinary trip.
Then we saw our Gold Class cabin. It was tiny – especially compared to how massive the train looked from the platform. For a moment I wondered how we were going to survive for days in such a compact space. But the cabin was clever. During the day it was seating; at night it transformed into bunks with a ladder. While we were at dinner, staff quietly switched it over so when we returned the beds were ready, the lights were soft, and a chocolate waited on each pillow. At 13, that chocolate felt like luxury.
My favourite place onboard was the Outback Explorer Lounge. It was where the train felt most alive – people chatting, laughing, watching the Outback slide past the windows. Without my phone as a distraction, I ended up talking to people I’d never normally meet and listening to life stories that made the journey feel richer.
And then there was the food. The Queen Adelaide Restaurant made every meal feel like an occasion – three courses even for breakfast – with native Australian flavours throughout. I tried dishes I would never have ordered at home, including crocodile dumplings, barramundi with sweet potato noodles and caviar, and kangaroo with rosella chutney. I also loved every dessert. Meals slowed time down. You weren’t just eating – you were sitting, talking, noticing.
Off the train, the journey somehow got even better. In Katherine, we chose the Nitmiluk Gorge cruise. The cliffs felt towering and ancient, the water impossibly clear, and along the way we saw Aboriginal rock art. It was beautiful in a way I didn’t yet have words for – I just knew it was special.
The next day, The Ghan stopped at Alice Springs (Mparntwe). We explored the town, visited a war memorial, and an art gallery where Indigenous artists were working. Watching artists create in real time made the experience feel alive. Later, we visited Simpsons Gap (Rungutjirpa), a place so striking it made everyone go quiet.
That evening brought one of my biggest core memories: dinner at Telegraph Station. It began with a camel ride and unfolded into a night of great food, live music, and a blacksmith demonstration that sent sparks flying into the dark. Sitting under the stars, talking to people at our table, I remember thinking how rare it felt to experience something so shared.
Our final full day took us to Coober Pedy (Umoona), an outback mining town where many homes are underground. We visited dugouts and an old miner’s dugout, then stopped for a Greek‑style buffet lunch in a cave. After lunch, we tried opal mining, and I uncovered tiny pieces of opal called pock, which felt like treasure because I’d found them myself.
No trip to Coober Pedy is complete without visiting the Breakaways. The colourful mounds looked like a painted landscape, layered and unreal. Nearby is the Dingo Fence, the world’s longest fence, stretching 5,614 kilometres. The Breakaways also come with one final surprise: flies. If you go, bring a fly net. Seriously.
When the journey ended, I felt sad in a way I didn’t expect. I’d boarded worried about going offline. Instead, I’d learned how good it feels to be fully present – to notice a place properly, to talk to strangers, to watch the landscape change without needing a screen.
Now, looking back, I realise The Ghan didn’t just take me across Australia. It taught me how to travel – and how to notice the country, and the people in it, a little more.
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